


Something Blue

by Lakeylou



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 22:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6132055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakeylou/pseuds/Lakeylou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizzie is getting ready for her wedding - a take on the promo. Red + Lizzie mostly</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Probably don't read this if you want Tom and Liz to get married lol. Might be way out of character here, but I can't deal with the thought of those two exchanging vows again. I do not own the blacklist or the characters. ( a few quotes have been taken from the promo + show.) :)

Something blue is the sapphire pendant cool against her chest.

Tom had given the necklace to her this morning; he dropped in early, was giddy and flushed. Lizzie lacked the same lively spirit; she was still half-asleep when she let him in.

Lizzie has nothing old, nothing borrowed and no silver six pence in her shoe.

But she has something _blue._

“I uh… I saw it in that little shop. You know, the jewelers we used to walk past on our way to Dean's bakery?” Tom had smiled, wiggled his eyebrows at her.

There was barely time to admire the gift before it was swiped from her hands. Tom had pulled the dainty chain from it's soft bed with rough fingers. He gestured for her to turn around.

A planned diamond heist with Gina Zanetakos.

Lizzie stamps her wayward thoughts immediately, reminds herself that Tom had bought her this wedding gift with money he had earned, saved.

He was trying.

And so would she. 

“I thought it would look beautiful on you,” Tom had winked and spun her back around. "I was right."

The necklace is heavier than she expected.

***

The brush scrapes the insides of the mascara tube.

It would have been wise to purchase a new one; this one is starting to become dry and sticky. But Lizzie didn’t have the time nor the energy. There's _never_ any time anymore. Her baby is beginning to grow and make itself right at home in her belly; she’s been exhausted and unwell the past fortnight. The thought of trudging through the mall in search of mascara did not seem worth it. Fluorescent lights and sticky air didn’t appeal – this mascara will do.

It would be nice to have some company.

A girlfriend to talk to and help calm her wedding jitters. It's her big day; her big white wedding.

And Lizzie’s alone in the dressing room; she’s doing her hair and make-up by herself. At her first wedding Ellie had done her make-up and Liz made an appointment with a high-end hairdresser to do her hair. She hasn’t spoken to Ellie since she begged the woman to save Tom's life.

_I could lose my license for this, go to jail._

Ellie has not called her since.

Lizzie has not called Ellie since.

***

The wedding dress is on a hanger, hiding behind a violet robe.

Lizzie decided on white lace a week ago. The cut of the dress chosen purely for comfort rather than glamour. Despite this, she still dreads the thought of having to put it on. Her wee baby would protest against the movements. Hopefully, Samar will remember to check on her before the service begins, so Liz can ask her to zip it up. 

One more delicate swipe of the fine brush and she will be ready to change.

And then she will be ready to marry Tom Keen.

There are three knocks at the door.

“Come in.”

Lizzie leans in close to the mirror and makes sure her eyelashes are spread and coated evenly. She blinks twice; it’s been done better, but it will suffice. Perhaps she needs a dusting more bronzer; her skin is too pale.

The door creaks when it opens. Red's reflection is revealed in the oval mirror and it stuns her. Why is he here? Her heart stops, she's sure it does. A moment lingers between them where neither move; he holds her steady gaze in the mirror.

What has happened to them?

There's no time to speculate; a car horn beeps and disturbs them both. Red moves first; he steps inside the room and shuts the door behind him.

They have privacy.

Red is the only one who has visited her in this dressing room.

But he's not going to ask if she's _ready_.

And he's not going to take her hand and tell her she looks beautiful,  _a beautiful bride._

To distract her from his presence, Lizzie places the mascara back into its pouch and searches for her pale pink lipstick. The last time she opened this special make-up bag was when she renewed her wedding vows with Tom.

_I know that you accept me for who I really am, and that's a gift that I thank God for every day._

Accept him. She didn't even  _know_ him.

The lipstick is easy to find and she takes her time to twist the lid before swiveling in her seat and eyeing Red.

“You are here for the wedding?”

“No, Lizzie.”

***

“If you’re here to try and stop me, you’re wasting your time.”

Red isn't phased. He looks around the empty room; and his palms open beside him as he shrugs.

“Seems no one else has the sense to try.”

His comment hurts her more than it should.

She maintains a steady voice, makes sure to stress the importance of each word.

“Everyone else is out there waiting for me. Accepting this decision of _mine_... and being happy for me.”

"And you want me to do the same?"

"I would like you to  _try_."

Red winces as if the idea physically pains him to think about. His eyelids are near shut when he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, Lizzie. I can't."

"Then go."

“Tom is not who you think he is.”

“He's changed," Lizzie argues.

“Men like Tom don’t change-”

“Because you haven’t given him a chance!” She snaps back. “How the hell is someone meant to change, Red, when they have _no one_ to _support_ them?”

“You owe Tom _nothing_ ,” Red responds immediately, his tone rising as quickly as her anger is. “I don’t know how else to get this through to you, Lizzie, but he will hurt you again and again and _again_. And I for one don’t want to stand around and see you suffer. To see you get hurt by a man who does not deserve your hand in marriage and especially, _especially_ not your love.”

 The lump in her throat builds, threatens to choke her to tears; Lizzie swallows to keep it down. 

Red always shakes salt on her wounds. 

She squeezes her eyes shut, begs herself to keep it together, to not _cry,_ to be  _strong_.

“I’m not asking you to stick around,” she replies shakily.

“I have no choice.”

***

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

Red steps closer, tilts his head closer. What does he see? What does he _see_ when he looks at _her_. A beaming bride? Does she have a pregnancy glow? Does he see something that she can't? Is that why he's so against her marrying Tom?

When Lizzie looks in the mirror she sees questions. Unanswered questions and crossroads and her pregnant stomach.

“If you have one shadow of doubt Lizzie. If you have even the slightest bit of concern about your future with Tom, don’t go through with this.”

“I’m so-”

“Hey Liz!” Tom’s voice shocks them both. It rolls through the door loud and joyful. They aren't alone anymore, and Red tenses in front of her. “I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay in there? And, uh, if you’re up for it I would happily break superstition and help you out in there.”

“Lizzie,” Red steps closer, his voice low. “Please don’t do this.”

What does he _expect_ her to do? Take his hand and escape out the window with him?

“I, uh…” Lizzie stares at Red, runs a finger under each of her eyes. “In a second, Tom.”

“Not getting cold feet are you?” Tom jokes then huffs out a laugh. “No, I get it. We better do it the right way. Although we could practice our kiss to make sure we get-"

Suddenly, Red’s not in front of her anymore. The rest of Tom's sentence is drowned out by her frantic alarm. Red _can not_ see Tom. Red _can_ _not_ go out there. Her eyes fly open as Red turns the handle and tugs open the door.

“Red!” Lizzie gasps. “Don’t!”

But Red moves quickly without regret; he grabs a fistful of the groom's shirt and pushes him back against the wall.

“Reddington.“ Tom sounds shock; he struggles against Red's hold then gives up to look at Lizzie. “What’s going on, Liz?”

Red's hand are visibly shaking; and the twitch in his left cheek _throbs_. Lizzie's seen this before. His voice is low and dangerous, a warning.

“If you so much as-"

"You'll what? Huh?" Tom smirks, enjoying the other man's temper; the loss of control. “What will you do?"

“Raymond,” Dembe’s raised voice is a sharp jolt to Lizzie; she didnt even see him standing in the hall. Dembe calls again, but Red breathes heavily and ignores him.

She tells Red to stop, but he doesn't react, doesn't move, stares at Tom. 

So Lizzie calls him _Red,_ tells him to listen to  _her._  

And Red's grip slackens, and Tom shoves him back, hard.

 “Get off me.” Tom turns, walks towards Liz, and wraps and arm around her. “Liz? Are you okay? What did he do?”

Lizzie stands still, stiffens when Tom circles her. 

What did _he_ do?

"Nothing," Lizzie says, her eyes on Red as he turns away from her.

“Reddington," she says quietly and sighs his name. "Red. Red!”

***

He's at the cemetery again.

The seat he sits on has a new coat of white paint - last time they sat here Lizzie mentioned how chipped the paint was.

It's quiet here, peaceful. Maybe he comes here to think. Red doesn't acknowledge her presence. She sits down next to him, folds her hands in her lap and stares forward. She had to message Dembe to see where Red was; his reply was quick, precise.

"I couldn't do it," she says aloud. "I couldn't marry him."

Red doesn't move.

"I just ... I feel like everything's on fast forward. And I'm a fly on the wall just  _watching_ myself run around in circles...over and over again. Everything is-"

Lizzie cuts herself off, sniffs, wipes at her eyes with the sleeves of her jersey. 

And then Red moves; his hand lands on her thigh, palm up and open; he rests it there and waits.

It doesn't take long; their fingers link, and Red gives her hand a small squeeze.

"I know it's been hard," Red murmurs. "And i know it's even harder to believe what i tell you, but _you,_ Lizzie, you will get through this."

She shakes her head. 

"I'm having a child."

It's finally sunken in.

"I'm having a child when nothing feels right."

Red angles his body towards her, places his other hand over their joint ones.

"When your child is born, Lizzie... if you remember the  _exact_ feeling you experience when you first hold your child in your arms. When you think about _that_ when things are tough... everything will make sense. "

"Holding your baby for the first time is..."

"Is what?" Lizzie encourages, widens her eyes to try and rid of the blur.

 Red shakes his head, smiles. "You'll be a brilliant Mother, Lizzie; you're a brilliant person."

Lizzie wipes at her eyes again, smiles at him through her tears.

"God, I'm such a mess right now."

"You're okay."

She pinches the bridge of her nose; there is so much to do, say. "He's not happy."

"I wouldn't imagine so."

"What did you mean? When you said you had no choice about leaving?"

"I could never leave you Lizzie because I don't want to."

Taking a number of deep breaths, Lizzie looks down at their joint hands, then to Red; he's looking straight ahead again. The headstone a few feet in front of them is decorated with blue pansies.

Blue like the sapphire pendant which she no longer wears.

 ***


End file.
